Jezebel takes on Kobarid.

Aw, you always leave too soon, summer. On the morning of September 1st, the door of warmth was kicked shut. A new door swung open and let in a gust of chilly air, signalling the beginning of autumn. That morning the temperature was just barely over 10°C. I’d let my stupid summer plan of riding up Mount Doug on a 7-speed cruiser bike slip away. Although the temperatures have since rebounded, I’ve also missed my chance to do the Vancouver Triple Crown ride.

Running was going well until I slammed my left kneecap into the sidewalk two weeks ago. The two easy runs I’ve done since this injury have both ended with me falling asleep at night with an ice pack on my knee. Garmin continues to flag my training status as “strained” while also dropping my VO2 max. On the upside, Garmin woke me up at 7am to notify me that my fitness age had decreased, with the falling confetti animation and all.

I have begun my surrender to the new season with a big batch of butternut squash soup and by planting some frost-tolerant vegetables in the garden. There is an ongoing search for a new sweater. Halloween costume possibilities have been mingling with memories of Slovenia in my head: I still have five more days to cover.

Onto day 6:

Continue reading “Jezebel takes on Kobarid.”

What What.

Plum Torte season is here!

Last year was a low-yield year for the plum trees in the backyard. This year we’re plumdog millionaires. I baked this torte in honour of Yann’s 38th Yanniversary on the 26th. He’s more of a pie guy than a cake enthusiast, but as I don’t own a pie dish, I hope this was a good compromise.

While delivering the torte, I rescued this disgraced royal couple from a box labelled “FREE” on the side of the street.

There is a strong possibility this wasn’t purchased ironically, as there are still folks alive in this city who get goofy over the British royal family. At least it has entered my home with the utmost irony. Now I need to find an actual use for it. To store condoms? Then, when I get around to using a condom, I’ll whisper into the guy’s ear, “Reitmans.

(I have a feeling this joke will go over most people’s heads, but I am keeping it in anyway.)

(The roomie’s suggestion was ribbon candy, which I think is somehow funnier.)

If the above wasn’t TMI enough for you, you’re in for a treat!

Continue reading “What What.”